


Parallel

by hereliesnils



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25371523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereliesnils/pseuds/hereliesnils
Summary: What if Hoffman met Strahm long before his life took a turn for the worse?
Relationships: Implied Lindsey Perez/Angelina Acomb, Mark Hoffman/Peter Strahm
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Parallel

Mark wanted him from the moment he set eyes on him. He wanted to drag him into a bathroom stall and make him come so hard he didn't care who heard him scream.

But he couldn't. He could only snatch glances as they worked, make excuses to talk to him for longer than necessary, and hope to god that he was thinking the same filthy thoughts every time their eyes met.

Strahm and Perez had been sent over to work on a case the PD couldn't quite crack. It always felt a little demeaning when the FBI were brought in, but the sting of failure was eased by the sight of Strahm entering the room with his hands on his hips and his chin raised. Mark found himself fixating on his lips one day, and his hands another, and his ass every time he got out of his seat to pace.

They had gone from Strahm and Perez to Peter and Lindsey in a matter of days. Mark made them laugh and put them at ease. His work on the case assured them he was a worthy colleague and it turned out that the three of them made a pretty good team. The only problem was that the case was progressing well, and if he was going to make a move he needed to do it before Peter left his office for the last time.

He took his chance one Friday afternoon when Lindsey left the room to take a break and pick up some files on her way back. When Peter asked him to take a look at something on his computer, Mark moved his chair a little too close and leaned over Peter's arm. His jacket was off and his shirt rolled up to his elbows to reveal strong forearms covered in dark hair. Mark wanted to bow his head and press his lips this new expanse of skin; wild from his proximity to a part of Peter he hadn't had days to drink in and commit to memory.

Peter asked him a question. It was immediately forgotten when they both turned their heads to face each other at the same time. Neither man moved. They were inches apart.

“Can I?” Peter whispered.

Mark wasn't certain, but it might have been the first time someone had asked him.

“Yeah, I want you to,” he kept his lips parted as his gaze travelled down the length of Peter's face and back up again to meet his eyes. This, he was good at. Peter let out a wordless murmur and tilted his head.

The sound of footsteps approaching sent them both scooting back in their chairs. Lindsey burst through the door with a stack of files in her arms. She faltered at the sight of Peter and Mark sat clear of the desk and at least two metres apart.

“Is everything okay?” she said.

Both men nodded. Her eyes darted between them. For the first time in all the years she had known him, Peter looked sheepish. Mark looked like he was channelling all his strength into looking inconspicuous. It wasn't working. Lindsey dumped the files on the desk and bit back the urge to ask if she was interrupting anything.

They left an hour later. Mark felt his limbs twitch when Peter threw him a heavy look over his shoulder. When the door closed, Mark exhaled and curled over his desk like he was in pain. His elbow nudged the file in front of him to reveal a scrap of paper with a phone number scrawled in black pen.

He wasn't going to fuck around, not after that near-kiss and that look. He called Peter that evening and asked if he had been thinking about him. There was no pretence. _Yes I have, come to my place._ And so Mark drove with his hands white against the wheel, and Peter waited on his couch with his feet bouncing against the floorboards like a nervous teenager on a first date, both men wondering what the fuck the other had done to them.

Peter answered the door to find Mark stood in his dark suit and crisp white shirt with his hair combed back. Peter had one arm around his waist and the other across his shoulders before either of them said a word. Mark's hands roamed over his back as they stumbled back into the apartment, and Peter heard him kick the door shut behind them.

It was a kiss that had been hours in the making. Peter held Mark close and revelled in the sensation of strong hands creeping lower down his back. When Mark reached Peter's ass he squeezed with both hands and rolled his hips in a fluid movement that made them both gasp. There was just enough space for Peter to run a hand down Mark's chest and stomach to stroke him through his pants.

Peter's breath hitched. Mark felt thick and heavy and hot against his palm.

“What do you want?” Mark punctuated his words with a kiss that made Peter shiver.

“I don't care,” Peter said, “your call.”

“I want to fuck you,” Mark sighed against Peter's lips, “I want you to fuck me. I want your cock in my mouth, and mine in yours. I want my tongue inside you. One night isn't gonna be enough.”

Peter groaned, low and needy, and pulled him into another kiss.

That night, they curled around each other with Mark's head by the pillows and Peter's near the foot of the bed. Peter moaned around Mark, and Mark moaned around him, and his only regret was that he couldn't watch those full lips dragging up and down the length of his cock. Mark's words echoed in his mind. _One night isn't gonna be enough_. He was going to need this man in his bed as long as he lived.

Over the coming weeks, Mark learned that Peter loved to feel his hands on his thighs, and Peter discovered that he could drive Mark wild by kissing a certain point on his neck. Peter preferred to be fucked on his back with his legs wrapped around Mark's waist, but he made a real show of riding him when the mood took hold. Mark liked to be fucked on all fours or on his side with Peter pressed against his back and the two of them moving in a slow grind. Taking Peter in his mouth was a real treat, and he could tell Peter felt the same from the way he savoured every lick and came up hard and desperate.

It reached the point where Mark was only going home to swap out his clothes and pick up his dwindling bills. The rest of his time was spent at work, or fucking in Peter's bed, or tangled up with him on the couch. He was certain that, if not for the sex, they would have died of heart attacks from the amount of take-out they consumed to fit around each other's work schedules and save almost all their spare time for each other.

Mark told Angelina he was dating someone special. He spared her the filthy details. She had kissed both his cheeks and told him she was so goddamn happy and couldn't wait to meet the hunk he was so crazy about. Peter had demanded the right to a confidante of his own and had chosen Lindsey. He didn't tell Mark that he was killing two birds with one stone; Lindsey was a friend he trusted but also a colleague who would find Mark and tell him if anything terrible happened.

That thought had occurred to him one morning when Mark let his fingers linger on the entry-point scars on his shoulder and back. Peter had pretended to be asleep, grateful that his face was buried in the pillow. He still hadn't told Mark the stories of both scars, and wasn't sure when he would be able to stand the sight of him tight lipped and dewy eyed with his eyebrows curved in repressed anguish. They were both an inch away from suggesting the other made a bid for a nice, safe desk job.

There was something silent but certain humming between them. It was finally voiced one miserable, cold night when Mark arrived at Peter's apartment later than planned. He looked so exhausted and dejected that it was impossible for Peter not to throw his arms around him and clutch him to his chest. Peter had come to expect Mark to match his crowding embraces, _you've got me and I've got you_ , but this time he went limp and let himself be held.

“Shitty day?” Peter said.

“Yeah,” Mark said.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not right now.”

“Can I make it better?”

“You are.”

Peter buried his face in Mark's hair.

“I love you,” Mark said.

“God, Mark,” Peter said, “I love you too.”

They said little else that night. Peter took charge. He eased Mark onto the bed and stroked them both nice and slow until their kisses became desperate. Mark halted him with a touch to his wrist and a look that lingered as he turned onto his front.

“Yeah?” Peter said.

“Yeah,” Mark said.

Peter draped himself over his body. He sunk one hand into Mark's hair, god he loved his hair, and Mark reached back to take the other and entwine their fingers as Peter began to move.

Throughout the night, Mark twitched and grunted in his sleep. Every time, Peter caressed his chest and whispered affection in his ear until he stilled.

Mark arrived the next evening looking closer to normal but still rattled. He was, thank fuck, ready to talk about it. Peter expected news of a particularly grim case or a paltry sentence handed out after months of work, but the problem was personal.

“It's Angelina,” Mark said.

He sat with his hands clasped between his knees and told Peter that his sister was dating a man named Seth, who he had yet to meet, and she had mentioned that he didn't like her going out with her friends.

“That's a red flag,” Peter said.

“Yeah,” Mark said.

“I'm sorry, baby.”

It was clear that the word had slipped out without a second thought. Peter was giving him a soft look with his head cocked to one side and Mark had to look away to ease the burn in his throat.

“He looks like an asshole,” Mark said, shifting the focus away from himself.

“Yeah?” Peter said.

“I can show you?” Mark stretched over the coffee table and drummed his fingers against Peter's laptop.

Peter failed to suppress his smile. He watched Mark log into a blank profile with no photo, a fake surname, and only one friend.

“She made me sign up to this,” he said.

Peter's affectionate smile didn't waver. Mark swallowed and set about finding a photo.

“There,” he said.

Angelina stood in a bikini with her body turned towards Seth and her arm around his shoulders. Her smile and sunglasses seemed to take up her whole face. The photo cut off at Seth's elbows but it looked like his arms were snaked around her waist. He was wearing a flannel shirt. In the background, there were passers-by in swimsuits and bikinis and shorts.

“Why is he wearing a shirt at the beach? He looks pretty well built,” Peter said.

“What do you mean?” Mark said.

“You call yourself a detective,” Peter said, exasperated, “shaved head, covering his torso, maybe he has tattoos he has to hide?”

“Are you saying my sister is dating a Nazi?”

“It's a possibility.”

“She wouldn't-” Mark started, “if she knew-”

“You told me she sees the best in everyone, right? I bet he told her he got mixed up with the wrong kids and made some bad choices. And I bet he's full of shit.”

For a moment, the slow clench and unclench of Mark's jaw was the only sign that he agreed. Then, he spoke with a strange serenity, like there was no doubt over what he had to do next.

“I'm going to kill him,” he said.

“No, no,” Peter eased the laptop shut and pushed it aside, “even if I'm right, no murder okay?”

It was an attempt at a joke, but Mark didn't react and kept staring at the space where the laptop had been. Peter leant forward to peer at his face, and when he saw his lips pursed and his eyes brimming he placed a kiss at Mark's temple and wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

“We'll work this out,” Peter said.

“Do you know how those bastards treat women?” Mark said.

“Yeah,” Peter said, “yeah I do.”

“I'm pretty sure he has a key to her apartment,” he said, “I'm gonna go and get her, she can stay at my place.”

Peter held him tighter, part comfort, part restraint, and moved his head to press their cheeks together.

“We need to think this through, okay?” he said.

“That's rich coming from you,” Mark said, and to Peter's relief he could feel him smile, “Lindsey said you can be a real hothead.”

“Well,” Peter said, “that's why I need her.”

****

“Lindsey?”

“Yeah?”

“If you had a real piece of shit for a boyfriend, how would you want me to tell you?”

“I wouldn't have a real piece of shit for a boyfriend.”

“I know. But if you did?”

Lindsey's eyes narrowed.

“What's this really about?” she said.

Peter sighed. He didn't know why he had tried that approach with her.

“Mark's sister,” he said.

“I'm guessing she's dating a real piece of shit?”

“We think so.”

He told her about Angelina and Seth. He told her that Mark was out of his mind with worry. And he told her that Mark and Angelina lost their parents when they were old enough to be left alone in the world but still far too young.

“By the sounds of it,” Lindsey said, “Mark had to be brother, mom, and dad.”

Peter nodded. His mouth was pressed into a thin line.

“So,” Lindsey continued, “you run the risk of coming across as meddling parents. I doubt that would drive her away, but she might not take you seriously.”

Her words hung in the quiet office. The only sound was the hum of the florescent lights and the computers.

“I have an idea,” she said.

****

Mark lied to Angelina for the first time in his life. He told her that Peter had dinner plans with a colleague on the same night they had agreed to meet, and of course she agreed that they should double up.

Peter arrived far too early and waited outside the restaurant. He checked his watch compulsively until Lindsey rounded the corner and smiled at him.

“If I was straight I would have such a crush on you,” he said.

“And it would be so inappropriate,” she said.

He laughed too loud and hugged her too tight.

“It's gonna be fine,” she rubbed his back, “trust me.”

Angelina was everything Mark had described. She greeted Peter with a winning smile and a squeeze of his hand that would have made anyone feel like the most important person in the room.

They settled down at their table, ordered, talked, laughed and the only indication that anything was wrong was the firm press of Mark's knee against Peter's thigh. Then, Angelina's phone vibrated. She excused herself and slipped it out of her bag to type out a hasty message.

“Everything okay?” Mark said.

Peter slipped a hand under the table and rubbed Mark's knee. _Let Lindsey do her thing._

“It's just Seth,” Angelina said, “he wants to know who else is here.”

She looked down at her plate and stabbed at her food without taking a bite. Peter felt Mark's knee press harder.

“Why?” Lindsey said. In that one word, her voice was gentle, curious, with a hint of a laugh that was friendly, not mocking. Fuck, she was good.

“He just-” Angelina looked up to the ceiling.

“Yeah?” Lindsey said.

“He just wants to know I'm safe,” Angelina said.

“You're with your big brother, how much safer can you get,” Lindsey landed a light punch on Mark's arm. He didn't move.

“That's what I said!” Angelina set her fork on the table. It was like Lindsey had flipped a switch.

“But then,” she continued, “he got mad, saying it was only because he cares about me so much, and that I didn't appreciate him!”

“Classic,” Lindsey said, “my sister had a boyfriend like that. I swear they have a textbook they all work from. Excuse me a second, I'm just going to the bathroom.”

“Oh, I'll come too,” Angelina said.

Mark and Peter watched the two women cross the restaurant.

“I want you to tell Lindsey that I would do anything for her,” Mark said.

“Careful,” Peter said, “you'll make me jealous.”

Angelina returned looking tearful, which alarmed Mark, but it was only from the shock of the epiphany Lindsey had encouraged. Now she had reached her own conclusion they were able to warn her of what might follow. It wasn't long before she had made a decision.

Mark slept on her couch until the locks had been changed. He managed to smother the little voice in the back of his mind that said he wanted Seth to walk in so he could blow him away. Angelina confided in him that the apartment felt sullied and that she wanted to bounce as soon as the lease was up. It turned out that Lindsey's housemate was moving out around the same time.

Little by little, they boxed up and transported Angelina's belongings until only her bed remained. Mark and Peter dismantled it with much grunting and swearing. It was only when they went to rebuild it in Lindsey's apartment that she pointed out it had been difficult because they used the wrong allen key and told them to leave the parts stacked against the wall in the spare room.

As soon as they arrived at Peter's apartment, Mark swept him into his arms and covered his face in kisses while telling him he loved him and he couldn't thank him enough. Then he dropped to his knees right there and made Peter gasp and moan and slump back against the door. Once Peter could walk again, he steered Mark to the couch and sunk between his parted thighs to return the favour.

Afterwards, Peter crawled up onto the couch. Mark pulled him close to his heaving chest. He was too far gone to notice Peter wiping his chin against his shirt.

“Fuck,” Mark panted, “where did you learn to do it like that?”

“The FBI Academy.”

“Christ.”

“Turned on or jealous?”

“Both.”

Peter laughed and nestled closer.

“You know there's never going to be anyone else but you?” he said.

“Yeah?” Mark looked down at him.

“Yeah,” Peter reached up to clasp his jaw in one hand and kiss him. Their lips were still flushed and swollen and slick from before.

“Why don't you tell me about the Academy?” Mark said.

Peter grinned and flopped back against his chest. He spoke with faux nonchalance and pretended not to notice Mark's hand sliding up and down his thigh. He told him about the time he went back to a guy's room only to find his room-mate was in. Then he told him, in great detail, how the three of them made the best of the situation. By the time he had finished, Mark was breathing hard and heavy.

“Do you wanna take me to bed?” Peter said.

It might have been because they both lasted so damn long on their second round, or the strength gifted to Mark by the thought of young, pretty Peter getting fucked in the ass and mouth at the same time, or just luck, but that night when he had Peter on his back with his legs pinned at his sides he made him come so hard that he threw his head back into the pillow and screamed. Mark followed him with a shout of his name, then came the sound of something thudding against the ceiling of the apartment below.

They both laughed, gasping, breathless, and Mark fell forward to crush their mouths together in a messy kiss. He rolled onto his side next to Peter and reached for him. They lay together, hand in hand, muscles twitching, panting until they could speak again.

“We need to get out of here,” Peter said.

“Huh?”

“Move,” Peter said, “somewhere better.”

“We?”

“Shut up, you live here.”

Mark couldn't argue with that.

“Shall we start looking for an apartment with thicker walls?” he said.

“Or-” Peter stopped himself.

“Or?” Mark said.

Peter stared at the ceiling and smiled a strange, bashful smile Mark hadn't seen before.

“Have you seen those little houses near your office? They're small but detached and they've got space for two cars,” he said.

“Yeah,” Mark said, “they look real nice. We should take a look.”

He lifted Peter's hand to his lips.

“You wanna do this?” Peter said.

“I wanna do this,” Mark said.

“You'll have to change your address at work,” Peter said, “will you tell them?”

_Will you tell them you're moving in with your partner? Your boyfriend? Will you tell them my name? Will you tell them my number so I'm the first to know if you get hurt? Will you walk into this year's Christmas party with your hand on the small of my back?_

“I will,” Mark said, “I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Ninth Doctor voice] JUST THIS ONCE EVERYBODY LIVES


End file.
